


Apologies And Broken Promises

by fandomtrashiness



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Blood, Death, Jack and Race brotherly relationship, M/M, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Homophobia, Super sad and violent, Swearing, That theory where Santa Fe means death, The Refuge is mentioned, sort of a happy ending??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 17:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15801120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomtrashiness/pseuds/fandomtrashiness
Summary: “He was my life, Jack! He was everything ta me! An’ now he’s gone! How can ya possibly say that everything’s gonna be alright? How can you even understand how I’se feeling?” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. Of course Jack understands. He was the one who found Race on the streets and brought him to the Lodging House, the one who was there with him when he was in the Refuge for the first time, Race was practically his younger brother. Race was his second, the one who was supposed to become leader when Jack finally decided to leave. Jack had protected him like a brother, loved him like a brother.





	Apologies And Broken Promises

**Author's Note:**

> in case you don't read tags, there is death and violence and a lot of blood here so if that freaks you out you've been warned

“Race, please...” I plead, my voice barely louder than a whisper. I hold Race’s hand in mine, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Stay with me. Ya can’t go. Not after everythin’ we’ve been through.”

“Al, I’se sorry.” Race chokes out. I stare into his eyes, trying to avoid looking at the large gash in his stomach, but the sparkle that usual graces his expression is gone. He’s lost all hope. His face is pale from all of the blood loss, and when I caress his cheek softly the skin is cold.   


“This ain’t ya fault, Racer. Jus’ stay with me, okay?”   


“I can’t.” Race says. “They’re callin’ me.”   


“Who?” I ask desperately.   


“The faces. I see all of these faces, people I know and people I’ve seen. They’se callin’ me.” Race coughs weakly, a bit of blood trickling from his lips. “An’ I can see ‘im, Al. My father. I- I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna see ‘im again. I’se scared. I jus’ wanna see you. There’s too many faces, too many voices. I’se scared Al-“ I stop Race from spiraling too far by putting my lips on his. I try not to think that this may be the last time I’ll ever kiss him. We pull away slowly, and Race intertwines his fingers with mine again.   


“I love you, Albie.” Race says, and his hand slowly drops back down to the blood stained sheets below him. His eyes are still open, and they’re glassy and gazed over. They seem almost fake. I gently shut his eyelids. The tears are falling faster now, and they fall onto Race’s still chest and mingle with the blood, creating small spirals on his shirt. I know Jack, Specs, and Crutchie are nearby, and I know they must be trying to talk to me, but I can’t hear anything over the pounding in my ears. I can’t breathe. The room is too small. The walls are closing in. Everything around me is turning to black, all I can see is Race’s body lying in front of me. I think of all of my failed promises to him, promises I said I would keep to my grave. 

But Death took him first.   


Death took him first even though I promised to protect him. Promised to always be with him. ‘Til death do us part. Ironic, because that’s the reason he got killed. 

Me.

It’s my fault. Oh God, it’s all my fault. I swore on my life I would never let this happen, but I failed. I failed just like I always do. I’m always making mistakes, screwing up, and this time Race payed for it. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I flinch away, knowing I’m about to be punished for my mistake. Race got killed because of me, stabbed in the stomach by some stranger in an alley because of me, and someone needs to make sure I don’t let that happen again. I need to learn a lesson. That’s what she would always say. My mother would always justify whatever she did to me with the excuse that I needed to learn a lesson. Snyder would do the same when I was in the Refuge. And apparently I haven’t learned a single thing because it’s happening all over again.   


“I’m sorry!” I exclaim, but only out of pure instinct. I remember after I say it that the apology will probably do more harm than good. Because apologizing is showing weakness. And weakness leads to more mistakes. And that’s why this is happening in the first place. “I’m sorry!” But apologizing for apologizing is apologizing. I cringe thinking about what will happen to me. Why can’t I just learn to shut my damned mouth? Why can’t I just learn to be quiet and stay out of the way? It would be better for everyone. No mistakes for me to make, no messes for anyone else to clean up. No dead Race. I crumble to the floor, not caring what terrible punishment will come for it, my muscles simply give up. Race is gone and it’s my fault. I’ll never joke with him again, steal his things again, kiss him in private again. Confide in him about my problems. Listen to his. Simply look at his beautiful face. The sobs rack my body, and I allow myself this peaceful minute of having a breakdown before the hits start coming. And sure enough, two hands grab my shoulders, hauling me into a standing position. I hunch my shoulders, wanting to protect some small inch of myself. But isn’t it already punishment enough that Race is gone?   


“Please.” I gasp, one last desperate attempt at saving myself. I open my mouth for one final plea, but stop myself. What if there’s a reason why this is happening? What if everyone is right? What if I do just need to be fixed? I shut my mouth and get ready for the first hit. The first one is always the first one, because you never know when it’s coming, but the rest are usually more manageable. There’s a certain rhythm that takes place after the first hit, and the rest are a bit more predictable. Usually. Sometimes they’re not, and those beatings are always the worst. I just want it to be fast and over with quick. But the first hit never comes. This only makes me more worried.   


“Albert.” The voice is soft and gentle, and it surprises me. And then I realize. Albert. My name.  _ My _ name. Not the name my mother chose for me when I was born, not any horrible nickname Snyder gave, not a hateful slur, but the name I chose for myself. The name that symbolizes the start of my new life. Albert. I melt into the arms holding me, knowing whoever it is isn’t going to hurt me. Because I know who it is. It’s Jack. Jack who has always been there for me, helping me when I need him. Jack who knows exactly how to calm me down when I’m having a panic attack.   


“It’s okay, Albert.” Jack says, holding me close to him. He smells like newsprint and paint, and the familiar scent is comforting. I try to slow my breathing like Specs taught me to ages ago, matching it up with the slow rise and fall of Jack’s chest. I don’t know how long I stand here for, eyes shut tight but tears still escaping from them, wrapped in Jack’s arms. Jack slowly lets go of me, and I immediately feel lost, like a piece of driftwood out at sea. I feel myself start to sway, I feel dizzy. Jack steadies me by putting a hand on my shoulder. I open my eyes and see Specs and Crutchie have left the room, Jack and I are alone. I decide I can’t handle seeing if Race’s body is still here or not.   


“Do you want to go up on the roof?” Jack asks. I nod. “Okay.” Jack says. “We’ll go up the fire escape.” I nod again, and Jack leads me out onto the fire escape, helping me climb all the stairs up to his penthouse. I’m grateful that he’s not making me go through the Lodging House, I don’t want anyone to see me like this. Jack goes up the ladder first, and then leans over the side to help me climb up. We sit side by side on the edge of the roof, looking out at the pitch black sky littered with stars.   


“I already miss ‘im so much.” I say, and the tears start falling again. “Whenever either of us would wake up in the middle of the night, we’d go sit on the fire escape an’ smoke an’ look at the stars.”   


“I miss ‘im too, Al.” Jack says.   


“It’s my fault.” I say, feeling a wave of regret wash over me. “I’d been too obvious, an’ then I let ‘im stay out later alone. I shoulda-”   


“It ain’t ya fault Al.” Jack says forcefully. “It’s the fault of whatever absolute shitbag went and jumped ‘im.” I shake my head, but don’t say anything else. I know Jack won’t listen.   


“I don’t wanna be here if he ain’t.” I say after a while, the tears on my face now dry. The realization doesn’t even really hit me until I say it out loud. What am I supposed  to do without Race?   


“He’d want ya ta stay for him.” Jack says, taking my hand and squeezing it gently. I pull away. That’s what Race used to do.   


“It’s gonna be okay, Al.” Jack says.   


“No it ain’t!” My voice cracks painfully. “He was my life, Jack! He was everything ta me! An’ now he’s gone! How can ya possibly say that everything’s gonna be alright? How can you even understand how I’se feeling?” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. Of course Jack understands. He was the one who found Race on the streets and brought him to the Lodging House, the one who was there with him when he was in the Refuge for the first time, Race was practically his younger brother. Race was his second, the one who was supposed to become leader when Jack finally decided to leave. Jack had protected him like a brother, loved him like a brother.

“Jack, I-”

“It’s fine, Al. You’se stressed, you wasn’t thinking. I get it.” Jack sighs.

“I know how much he meant to you.” I mumble. “Thank you for that. For bein’ there for ‘im. An’- I’se sorry.”

“Thanks Al.” Jack says. There’s a few moments of silence before Jack speaks again, this time his voice quiet and lost, small and fearful, almost childlike. “What are we gonna do without him?” He sounds so broken. I lean my head on his shoulder, and he puts an arm around me.

“I miss ‘im so much, Jack.” The tears are coming back. Jack wraps me in his embrace, and I sob into his chest, not knowing what else to do. He’s gone. He’s really gone. I know it’s selfish to only think about how it will affect me, but I can’t even bear to imagine how everyone else will react. Do they already know? They must. I try not to think about what a mess the Lodging House below must be. Race was what held us together in a crisis like this, he was the one to crack jokes or offer a cigar when we were feeling down.

“He was all I had, Jack.” I choke out through another sob. “What am I supposed ta do? Jack, he was all I had left. I can’t-” My voice breaks again, I can’t even finish speaking.

“I know, Al. I know.” Jack says comfortingly. We sit there for a while, holding each other. I’m scared I won’t have anything left when we let go.   


“Do you wanna stay up here tonight?” Jack asks softly.   


“What about Crutchie?”   


“He dont mind. Said he was gonna sleep near JoJo anyways ta calm ‘im down.” Of course JoJo must be freaking out. Losing Race was what brought him to such a dark place in the Refuge.   


“Alright then.” Jack and I finally let go of each other, and I can see tracks of my tears slowly drying on his shirt. Jack lays down on his bedroll, and I move towards Crutchie’s side of the roof, but Jack motions me over to him instead. I obligingly lay down next to him. He puts a brotherly arm around my shoulders.   


“He used ta always wanna sleep next ta me when we was in the Refuge. Helped calm ‘im down. Helped calm me down too.” Jack comments, staring up at the stars. “Best little brother I ever had.” I hear Jack sniffle a bit, and when I look over I notice a wet streak on his face. It’s the first time I’ve seen Jack cry. He’s my older brother, older brothers don’t cry. He’s supposed to be tough, together, able to help me. But he’s only seventeen. He’s only seventeen and he has to be the one to grow up fast and be the adult. I nuzzle my head into Jack’s shoulder.   


“It’s not fair.” It’s a childish thing to say, but Jack still nods at the comment.

“Nah, it’s not.” Jack agrees.

“I loved ‘im, Jack. Not like a brother, we was always more than that.” I whisper.   


“I know, Al.”   


“An’ he was your brother! How could anyone take that away from us? What kinda-” My voice is rising, but I don’t care. Being angry feels a hell of a lot better than being sad.

“Albert, tryin’ ta find whoever killed ‘im ain’t gonna fix anything.” Jack says.

“How can ya be so calm?” I practically snarl.

“I have ta be.” Jack replies, his voice sad. And I know it’s true, but I don’t want it to be.

“I’se sorry, Jack.”

“Stop apologizing, Al.”

“I’se sorry- I mean-” I stop talking.

“I love ya Al. An’ he loves ya too.” Jack whispers.

“I love ya too.” I close my eyes, leaning into Jack and just wanting sleep to come easily.

 

I dream of blood and tears. I’m slowly fading away, but no one is noticing. I’m falling down a dark hole, screaming for help but no one is coming. I’m seeing Race die ten times over again, blood matted in his curly hair and breaths becoming slower and slower. There’s so much blood. I’m drowning in it. I can’t breathe, the endless red is choking me in it’s grasp. I can see Race, he’s so close, but when I reach out for him he’s pulled away. And then there’s a loud bang and a sharp pain in my side. I wake up screaming.   
  
It would be a normal day if it didn’t feel like a piece of me was missing. Everyone is quiet and subdued, there’s no usual morning banter. We go to the nuns and get breakfast. We go to the distribution center and buy our papers. I go to Central Park like usual. I look up at the trees and recall all of the times Race and I climbed them together. I bought fifty papers, but I only manage to sell half of them before the end of the day. The headline isn’t bad, but I really only sell to my regulars who come up to me and ask for papers. Katherine comes and buys three papers, just to be nice, but I don’t feel like talking much. I head to the distribution center to sell my last 27 back and I can tell Weasel is pissed. By the time I’m making the long walk back to the Lodging House, the sky is already orange from the setting sun.   


“Hey Pretty Boy!” I hear the shout from within an alley. I start walking a bit faster. The Lodging House isn’t too far away. But the shout comes again. I ball my fists. I could easily keep walking, get back to the Lodging House and have a higher chance of not getting soaked, but my brain says no. All of my grief for Race is overcome by the sudden overwhelming anger of last night. Whoever killed Race needs to pay. I turn around and march directly into the alley, seeing not just one but two dark figures.   


“Lookie here! He came when called!” I recognize the voice now. Oscar Delancey. Of course it was the Delancey brothers. I’ll get them back. Make them pay for what they did to my Race.   


“Noticed your boyfriend didn’t come sell today.” Morris sneers. “Is he sick?”   


“I think you know exactly what happened.” I growl, cracking my knuckles.   


“Ooh, you wanna fight us, Pretty Boy? Aren’t you afraid of ruining your nails?” Oscar taunts. If Jack were here, he’d be telling me what a bad idea this is. He told me last night not to do this exact thing. And I know exactly how bad of an idea this is. Bad enough to get me killed. But Race is already gone, so it’s not like I have anything left to lose. Deep down I know that’s not true, I know all of my brothers at the Lodging House will be devastated if I do something this monumentally stupid, but the adrenaline is already coursing through my veins, and I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet. That’s what Race used to love most about getting into fights. The adrenaline. Now I know why. It’s freeing, feeling your heart pound and blood pump faster than anything else in the world. I throw a reckless punch at Oscar, and feel the satisfying sting on my knuckles when my fist connects with his jaw. My hand is bloody, I apparently punched really hard and split my knuckles, but I can’t even feel the pain. Morris lunges at me, but I duck away. He stumbles as he tries to regain his balance. Oscar reaches for me next, aiming a kick at my crotch, and that does land. I don’t feel a thing. I clench my shaking hands into fists, and punch Oscar in the gut. He grunts and stumbles backwards. I grin proudly, the adrenaline congratulating me. But I forgot Morris. I see blood start to blossom from my stomach, pooling out through my shirt from around Morris’ silver switchblade. The pain hits me a few moments later, sharp and well, stabbing. Morris pulls the knife out, and I exhale loudly. I want nothing more than to collapse in the ground, but that isn’t really an option right now. They’re going to kill me just like they killed Race. I’m seeing everything in a red light, which probably isn’t good. I turn around to face Morris, who is still gripping his knife tightly, and I blindly swing at him. The punch doesn’t land.   


“You’re weak!” Morris laughs.   


“Still stronger than you.” I manage to say, spitting out blood.   


“And yet you’re the one who just got himself stabbed.” Morris kicks at my legs, knocking them out from under me. I fall to the floor, my ankles giving out completely.   


“Pathetic.” Oscar says, and through the fog clouding my head I can see him slip on his trademark brass knuckles. I almost roll my eyes, he doesn’t go anywhere without the damned things. He grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me up, shoving my head painfully against the wall. He decks me, and my head snaps to the side. I spit blood again. The punches keep coming, but Oscar eventually gets bored and drops me to the ground again, letting his brother take over. Morris leans over me, an evil grin on his face.

“I’ll cut ya up jus’ like I did ta ya boyfriend.” He says in a low threatening tone. I try to make a snarky comeback, but when I open my mouth more blood comes spilling out. Morris laughs, and he drags his knife tauntingly down my face, just barely drawing blood. I wince and hiss in pain.    


“Ya like that?” Morris asks. Before I can even try to respond he’s cutting open my shirt.   


“Don’t touch me.” I say weakly. Morris only laughs and plunges his knife into my stomach again. I scream in pain, the metal is eating my insides. I can’t possibly take any more pain than this, this is the worst I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Morris pulls the knife away and I breathe a sigh of relief, but he’s stabbing me again, and again, and then he’s gone. The knife is still in my stomach, and I’m simply laying on the cold hard floor of the alley, bleeding out of too many wounds to count. I can’t believe I’m not dead yet. I wish I would just die already. Why does everything  have to be so painful? My body is made of pain, the pain consumes my mind. It clouds my vision and messes with my thoughts. I suddenly understand what Race said about seeing faces. Because I can see them, the faces. My father, slamming the door, my mother shouting at me, police yelling questions at me, Snyder cursing at me, everyone who has ever caused me suffering.

“Albert?” The voice is so far away, and the sound is muffled by all the other voices, but I recognize it as Jack’s.

“Jack.” I breathe slowly. His face pushes away all the others, and I can’t help but smile. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

“No, Albert, don’t you dare apologize. You’se gonna live.” Jack says, and I see him reach down to my stomach. He’s probably putting pressure on the wound, that’s what you’re supposed to do. It’s weird though, because I can’t feel anything anymore. I giggle.

“I’se gonna see Race again!” My words are slurring together, I’m about to die and I know it. “He said it’s like Santa Fe nice an’ green. He’s talkin’ ta me, I can see ‘im!” And I can. The ghosts are back, but Race is at the forefront now, holding out his hand. I reach out and take it. I laugh because I’m suddenly running alongside him, down a dark tunnel, but there’s a bright light at the end. I’m laughing even harder, I don’t know why. We reach the end and we’re suddenly rolling around on a grassy hill, laughing our heads off. I kiss him, and he kisses me. We don’t have to worry about anyone else, it’s just us on our hill. We lay on our backs, staring up at the beautiful blue sky. The same color as Race’s eyes.

“It’s just like Jack said, it’s no wonder he always wanted ta come here.” I say.

“Ain’t no place like Santa Fe.” Race hums.

“I love you, Racetrack Higgins.” It’s so freeing to say. I stand up, pulling Race up with me. “I love you!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

“I love YOU!” Race yells back. I laugh and grab his shirt collar, pulling him towards me. I crash our lips together, and it’s the best I’ve ever felt. I run my fingers through his blond curls, and I feel his arms wrap around my waist.

And I know that we’ll never be apart again.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments and kudos mean the world to me, i love knowing what you think! :)


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